


this part was for her

by starryflower



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: SERIES 12 SPOILERS KINDA, is he happy with his decisions, kinda those two if you squint really hard, the master loves the doctor even if they hate them like 80 percent of the time, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23175451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryflower/pseuds/starryflower
Summary: The Master burned it all, but did it make him happy?
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36





	this part was for her

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I kinda badly describe Gallifrey burning and the Master killing people, but no gory stuff, it's just there, so you have been warned  
> -  
> Written while having 'comes and goes' by Greg Laswell on repeat, because the 'this part was for her, does she remember' part kinda made me think of these two

They deserved to burn.

He stood there, admiring his work. The fire got lost in the oranges of the field, leaving nothing but smoke and ashes behind. He stood there, pleased with himself. He really outdid himself this time. 

And yet, he was not happy. How could he be happy when he knew. He knew what they did, he knew what had happened. He looked at the orange hills, the remains of once a glorious empire built on lies and torture. 

Bringing down civilisations, planets, ending lives before they were spent had made him so happy, the chaos filling his hearts with joy and pleasure. 

So how come he wasn’t happy when he saw it burn to the ground, knowing it would be forgotten with time, the legends of the glorious Gallifrey becoming mere grains of ash. 

He should’ve been happy. He should’ve felt something, he should’ve felt pride and ecstasy. Nothing. He felt nothing but dulling numbness, an empty void inside his hearts, confusing him beyond his own understanding. 

He stood in the remains of Gallifrey, hearing their screams when he closed his eyes, hoping it would bring him joy. It brought him emptiness instead. He heard their screams, the children crying, their voices filled with desperation and fear so thick he could cut it with a knife. Their screams, they all sounded the same. 

Except for one. The muffled screams of a frightened child, chilling him to his core. The child that was burning like the beautiful hills of his home planet. The planet that was built on lies, on the muffled screams of that child. 

Tears filled up his red eyes and he let them fall, after all, no one was there to see them. With a sigh, he turned around, leaving the burning oranges behind. He didn’t want to admit it, but that part was for her. 

Did she remember? 

. . . 

Telling her about their home burning brought him little to no joy. He wanted to break her, he wanted to destroy her, to find glory in her despair, to pick apart her broken pieces. He wanted them to be equals, he always did. And now, now he knew more than she did, more than she could ever imagine knowing. 

In a way, it made him happy. He finally got to up her, he finally got to be better than her, knowing all the lies and secrets of Gallifrey, punishing them for it. Drenching the robes that used to make them so big and important in their own blood, making them realise how fleeting their lives were. 

Time lords, their noses stuck high up and their egos bigger than the universe, so noble and graceful, so proud of their origins. It made him sick. 

He didn’t even tell them before killing them. Maybe it would’ve brought him more joy, to let them know how sick their existence is before taking their life from them. It would’ve been fun to watch the realisation dawn on their faces as the life vanished from their eyes. 

It would be fun to watch her realise how twisted their existence is. How twisted her existence is. The planet that she once mourned for, the people she cried for, the lost lives of children, that she loathed herself for. All gone, all lies. And all had a part of her inside of them. 

Killing them was in a way, like killing her. He watched their lifeless bodies fall to the floor, watching the last drops of their blood, of her blood, drench the carpet in red. And yet, he wasn’t happy. He surely would be happy once he showed her, once he told her what he had learned. 

He watched her Tardis materialise from afar, the blue box being the most visible thing amid all the burned orange. He saw tears form in her eyes once again as she left the box, sitting down in the dust, watching the fires die down. 

He could almost imagine the pain he had brought on her, breaking that beautiful smile of hers, leaving nothing but tears and ache behind in those wonderful hazel eyes, that contained the universe within them. 

He had always loved their eyes, they were filled with stars and wonder from a young age, always watching him carefully during their youth. Those eyes that were filled with love and unspeakable pain and sadness, that their owner had no idea of possessing. Their eyes were always magnificent, hopeful and yet gloomy and ancient. 

Oh, how little did she know. How low could he possibly bring her, breaking her hearts into billions of little pieces, telling her how everything she thought she knew was a lie. He would find relish in watching her pick up the pieces and try to glue them back together, always so hopeful, but all hope had to end one day. 

He watched her break down, the smoke clouding his vision. It didn’t bring him joy. This part was for her. 

Did she remember? 

. . . 

Oh, how he hated to live with the knowledge that she made him who he is. All he ever wanted to be was her equal and even when he knew more than she did, she was still his better. She made him who he is at the academy, promising him stars and planets far grander and more monumental then they could’ve comprehended in their youthful years. 

She made him who he is before he was even born. She made him eternal, made his life longer, filled with more understanding of how things work. She made him bored, she made him enjoy watching life flee from those who had so little of it. He didn’t see much value in life, even less now when he knew what the price of his life was. 

He looked at her, standing still in her little prison, consumed by memories long forgotten, letting him take her on a journey of a lifetime, or several. He knew that she was scared, not for her, but her friends, like she has. Always so altruistic, always so caring, always pretending to be so much more and yet so much less, placing no value on her own life, protecting the lives of humans, the insects of the universe. It was pitiful. 

Did she ever place so much value on his life, or was it only when she feared to be alone? Maybe she knew, maybe she did know somewhere deep down, that she was alone. That she didn’t belong. That Gallifrey was no home to her, that she mourned and cried her hearts out for nothing. She did so much for people who used and killed her, took away everything and tried to make her into someone ordinary. 

He chuckled, watching her stand there, knowing she can do nothing but let him be in control for once, to let him show her what he knows. They tried to make her into someone small and yet, she was always so much more than them. 

He hated that with a burning passion. He hated her for what she made him even before she had a say in it. But he loved her. He loved everything about her, he always had, even back when they were children. He wanted to be her equal, but he could manage to live with what they had, maybe. 

They were both alone, last or first of their kind, did it even matter? They would one day be equal in death and no one could take that away from him. 

So he just stood there and watched her, part of his consciousness walking her through everything. He avenged himself, his pride, his sense of self and his love. He avenged her. This part was for her. 

Does she remember?


End file.
